Wartorn - Chapter 1
"Have the bombs stopped dropping yet?" Kurt asked. "I—I think so?" Melissa replied. James stayed silent. They hadn't heard anything in a good two or three hours, but this wasn't the first time there was such a large gap in explosions in the previous days. He had almost given up the concept of hope. Every time they heard a silence, it would soon be broken. It lasted a little longer each and every time, but it was always bound to end. It felt like a metaphore for life at this point. He stared at the hovel he was forced to call home. Paper was peeling off of the walls in response to the constant vibrations of shrapnel and gunpowder. Any window that wasn't broken was filled with cracks, threatening to join its dead friends if so much as a single raindrop pattered atop of them. The broken glass was the only thing keeping the rotting smell of discarded cans from overwhelming the house. Almost as if on que there was a distant shriek of thunder. At least, thunder to the untrained ear. James had heard it so many times, and rehearsed each decible of its terror in his head. Melissa shielded her head in quick reaction. It had been about a week since the vibrations had even stopped touching them, but that first blast burned itself into all of their memories... and their bodies. Beyond the cuts and scratches that still hadn't fully healed on any of them, Kurt wore a makeshift splint. A bookshelf had fallen crushing it. The scream may have bore itself into their minds if the second bomb didn't overshadow it. "It's not going to hurt us," James said. "They're too far away. Sounds like they've moved onto the next city." "You sure about that?" Kurt asked. "I'm not sure about anything any more. All I know is that we can't stay here." "It's too risky to go outside," Kurt shot back. "Yeah, well, it's even riskier staying put here. We're out of food." Melissa got up, clearly overwhelmed by the everything that surrounded her. "I can't deal with this. I'm going upstairs." As she brushed past James on her way to the staircase that was barely there anymore, Kurt and James practically went silent. They were two busy hurling imagined insults that they hadn't the energy to create back and forth at each other. It wasn't long ago that neither of them would have considered doing something so childish, but they've slowly come to the realization that forgetting who you are comes with the blessing of forgetting who you were. Another explosion in the distance did nothing to quell the silent argument. The only thing was the eventual boredom. James turned his attention to the window he had claimed as his haunt when they first escaped into this house. It had the perfect view of reality being warped and bended to a hellscape. Though his watch stated that it was a little past noon, the world was dark. Black clouds made of smog cast the city in shadow. James battled with his hunger and his warring emotions to gather the strength to speak. He eventually won. "Are you really expecting us to stay here for the rest of our lives?" "It's better living two more days in here than one day out there." "We were only going to stay here until the bombings stopped. We don't own this house." "Do you honestly think that even matters? The guy who owned this place probably got hit while driving to work. The deed don't mean nothing when you're dead. And if you haven't noticed the bombs are still dropping." "Sometimes the plan changes." The burst of strength was over. James knew he still had plenty of fight in him. There was so much more he could and should be saying. If Kurt was so desperate to stay alive, then why did he want to stay in a decaying home with no food and backed up sewage for water? The only thing that James could find himself doing is leaving Kurt to his delusions while he climbed the stairs. Melissa wasn't much for conversation, but right now, any company seemed better than Kurt's. As he opened the door he caught Melissa crying over a faded photograph. She used to have the strength to cram it into her pocket or some other hiding spot, but now the urge to release her emotions seemed much more important. "I—I miss her so much. I want to see her again. I want to go home." "You will see your sister again," James said. He said it as scencerely as he could muster, even though they both knew that he was lying. The evidence pointed against it. Reality pointed against it. The only thing that gave the slightest inkling that any of them would be able to return to something resembling a normal life was the delusion of hope. Melissa didn't have the strength to smile anymore, but the words were enough to show gratitutde in her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment before a metal crease was heard. It sounded like the front gate opening. James snuck towards the window and got a glimpse of an intruder. Wearing a black trenchcoat and scarves to hide his hair, he was nearly an invisible man. James might not have seen him at all if a glimmer of light reflecting off of his shot gun from a lamp post that hadn't yet gone out didn't give him away. James gave a signal to Melissa to stay silent as pulled a board from the debris on the floor. He stepped through the ruined house, praying that not one of the boards beneath him creaked. All the while, he heard signs of this intruder. The door didn't make much of a barrier, Kurt himself had broken it open to get them inside the house in the first place. An argument broke out between the intruder and Kurt, and each spike in it caused James to move a little faster. He slowly began to remember: Kurt was a friend. It was so easy to forget that in this kind of world. Stress had turned their minds inside out. Hunger had turned them into animals, focused on nothing but their own survival. As James started sneaking down the stairs, Kurt didn't even acknowledge him. He was either too focused on the intruder, or too privy to what was coming. As the intruder cocked his gun, James pelted the side of his head with the board so much that it broke apart. Unsatisfied, James stomped on the skull until he heard a brutal crack. As Kurt was parsing through his emotions, James had only one thing to say. "We're leaving. Today." The three of them searched through this intruder's belongings. This man was clearly desperate. The shotgun only had two shots in it, and the food that he held would barely be enough to hold one person one day. The only thing he had of impressive value was a pair of binoculars, which was marred by the crack on the left lens. "Alright then," Kurt demanded. "Where are we going?" "West Port," James replied. It seemed like as good a goal as any. Melissa looked stunned as her heart skipped a beat. "Are you crazy? That's like two states over." "Well, what else would you recommend? Detroit? Springfield? Fucking Anchorage? Look, it's some of the only direction we've got, and since we've got to keep moving that's the direction we should head in." "Alright, fine. You win. But if we die, I'm blaming you." James paused a moment. Did he...? Did Kurt revive one of their old jokes? He supposed that that was thanks for saving his life, but it felt bizarre and unexpected. It almost felt like a layer of humanity was restored. Or maybe Kurt was resigned to his fate and wanted to give what he could while he could. James' mind kept turning towards the depressing option as they packed up whatever they could find. While Melissa was able to use a schoolbag looking like it belonged to a second grade girl, James had to create a makeshift backpack by cutting holes in a suitcase and tying curtains as straps. Kurt's still-injured foot prevented him from carrying anything but crutches. They took everything they could conceivably use, from cleaning supplies to kitchen knives. Anything that looked like it could have a use down the road. It wasn't much and it didn't give them much hope. They couldn't find a morsel of food, nor could they find a working lighter. Ready or not, these three friends ventured out into the alien world. Category:Miscellaneous